


Relapse

by Whump-with-wren (Spannah339)



Series: Bad Things Happen [6]
Category: Iron Fist (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, Shaky Hands, Whumptober 2019, self hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 21:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20842271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Whump-with-wren
Summary: Danny’s face flashed through his mind again and he flinched. He couldn’t stop thinking about that moment Danny went over the cliff, his eyes wide and full of terror. He had looked at Ward, silently begging for help, and then he had been gone, his attacker falling after him a moment later.Ward hadn’t even hesitated - he had shot the other attacker and ran to the cliff. By the time he had scrambled down to the fast-flowing river below, Danny was gone, only a hint of pink in the water suggested he had even been there in the first place.He had spent hours searching up and down that river, not caring as he tore his skin to pieces, as he pushed himself to exhaustion. Eventually, when it had become too dark to continue searching, he had been forced to give up.There was no sign of Danny. Either he had been washed down to the sea, miles away, or he had been picked up by the men who had been hunting them. Either way - Danny was gone.He wanted a drink.





	Relapse

Ward sank against the bed, hands shaking and blood-splattered, his breath unsteady. His clothes were torn and damp, his hair sticking to his face, his chest heaving. He barely registered that he was back in the motel as he collapsed, curling into himself, pressed up against the bed. 

Danny’s face flashed through his mind again and he flinched. He couldn’t stop thinking about that moment Danny went over the cliff, his eyes wide and full of terror. He had looked at Ward, silently begging for help, and then he had been gone, his attacker falling after him a moment later. 

Ward hadn’t even hesitated - he had shot the other attacker and ran to the cliff. By the time he had scrambled down to the fast-flowing river below, Danny was gone, only a hint of pink in the water suggested he had even been there in the first place. 

He had spent hours searching up and down that river, not caring as he tore his skin to pieces, as he pushed himself to exhaustion. Eventually, when it had become too dark to continue searching, he had been forced to give up. 

There was no sign of Danny. Either he had been washed down to the sea, miles away, or he had been picked up by the men who had been hunting them. Either way - Danny was gone. 

He wanted a drink.

Danny was gone and it was Ward's fault. He knew that -Danny had let himself open to be thrown off balance to protect him. He knew he had let his brother down. If only he had been faster, if only he had moved a little sooner, if only he had been more aware of what was happening. This was his fault. His fault and Danny was gone. 

(It wasn't just Danny's face that kept forcing itself into his mind. The face of the man he had shot refused to leave. The man he hadn't hesitated to shoot, the man he had killed. His dying expression seared itself into Ward's mind, just like Danny's panic-stricken face.) 

He needed a drink. He needed something strong, something to dull his mind and drown the images that refused to leave him. He needed a drink, just one drink. That was all. 

He should have been better. Why had he even come on this stupid trip? He wasn't even able to protect his brother - what was the point of him coming along if he couldn't do that? They had argued and fought, their last proper conversation snapping at each other. It was what happened when two people spent so much time together but now Ward regretted every word. Small annoyances weren’t worth that. 

He should have apologised. He should have tried to make everything better. But, he had to admit to himself, up until the moment he saw Danny begin to fall he only felt annoyance towards the other man. 

And now Danny was gone, tumbling down the cliff. Now Danny was gone and he was never going to come back. Ward was never going to be able to apologise, to make things right. 

He needed a drink. 

What was he going to do now? The thought of going back to America filled him with dread - there was nothing there for him. Not without Danny, not with Joy still refusing to talk to him. There was nothing but the job he was growing to hate. 

And if he went back to America he would have to explain to Colleen what had happened. 

The thought of Colleen sent a chill down his spine - how could he ever tell her what happened? She already hated him, if she knew he was the reason for Danny’s… the reason Danny was gone - she would hate him even more. 

Did it matter who else hated him? Danny was the only one he had ever met who hadn’t hated him. And now Danny was gone. 

He had to get it over with. Tell Colleen, then hunt down the group who had killed Danny. If he survived that, he would figure out what to do next. 

He had stumbled across the room to retrieve his phone and had got as far as finding Colleen’s name in his contacts (Danny had made him add her just in case) when he faltered. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t strong enough, couldn’t deal with the idea of Colleen’s grief. He couldn’t do it. 

He needed a drink. 

The idea was becoming more and more appealing and he was beginning to wonder why he was even hesitating. Danny was gone, leaving an aching and guilt rimmed hole. Everyone else hated him, himself included. A drink to take the edge off, to dull everything - just enough to gather the strength to call Colleen - was beginning to sound very appealing. 

One drink surely wouldn’t hurt? Besides, he deserved one after the crap day he had. He knew there was a bar nearby, just around the corner. A drink, then call Colleen, then see where the night took him. It wasn’t like anyone was waiting for him. It wasn’t like there was anyone who cared. 

Least of all himself. He had let Danny down. This was his fault, and a part of him didn’t care if he relapsed. Just another failure to add to the list. 

So, not caring that he was still covered in scratches and blood, he pocketed his phone again and stumbled out the door towards the nearest bar. 

___

Danny’s head was pounding. For a long moment, that was the only thing he could focus on - the steady, oppressive throbbing pain in his head. Slowly, he became aware of other sensations - the stones digging into his back, the water that half-covered him, lapping at his chest, the numerous other scrapes and cuts that covered him, the throbbing pain in his right arm and leg. 

He pried his eyes open, the left one sticky with blood. Blinking in the sudden light, he could see the stars high above him, worsening his headache. 

He groaned, closing his eyes again, wanting to just drift back into the darkness. Everything hurt and he was pretty sure he had broken his arm. Drifting back into darkness seemed very appealing. 

The water lapped up his chest, seeping into him, chilling him. He shivered, pain shooting through his body as he did. If he were another man, he likely wouldn’t have survived as long as he did. But he had been raised in K’un-Lun - he was used to pain. He was used to cold. 

So, slowly, gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up with his good arm. The world spun and he bit back bile, falling back again. A groan escaped him and he closed his eyes, wishing he could just drift away again. 

But he couldn’t. He had to find Ward. The thought gave him the strength to try again - Ward could be in trouble and Danny had to find out. 

This time, he managed to stumble to his feet, leaning heavily against a wall a few feet from the river. As he leaned against the wall he took in his surroundings - the river had dragged him into the city, washing him up in a chanal carving through the buildings. 

Standing had taken too much energy. He rested against the wall, the sounds of the city quiet in the distance. The river only flowed through the outskirts of the city - passing through the rocky country, into the city and then out into the sea. The part of Danny’s mind that could think straight was grateful he hadn’t been washed all the way out. 

He needed to move. Ward would meet him at the motel if he was alright - if he was in trouble, Danny needed to tend to his wounds before he started looking. Either way, Danny’s first stop was the motel. 

Knowing what he needed to do and actually doing it were two completely different things. But somehow, without fully knowing how, Danny found the strength to push himself off the wall and begin to stumble forward, nearly tumbling over as he put weight on his right leg. 

He was only vaguely aware of where he was going. He held his right arm close to his chest, his other hand pressed against the wall to keep him upright. Blood caked half of his face, wet hair mixing with the wound. His clothes were dripping, torn and bloody and he was favouring his right leg as he walked, the old wound enflamed from the fall. 

Limping through the town, only one thought on his mind, he didn’t even notice the commotion until he was practically on top of it. A man pushed past him and he stumbled back, breaking out of his pain-induced daze. 

Blinking, he looked up, making out a bar from which the noise was coming from. His head was pounding, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week, but to get back to the motel he had to pass the bar, past the angry patrons leaving.

He stood there, swaying slightly and shivering as his sluggish brain tried to keep up. Now that he had stopped walking the simple act of putting one leg in front of the other seemed beyond him. 

He had just about gathering the strength to begin moving again when a voice caught his attention. Again, he looked back to the bar, to see a bouncer escorting a man to the exit. 

“You can’t cut me off!” the man was protesting. Danny stared at him, his headache growing, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“Get out,” the bouncer growled, practically throwing the man out. Almost instantly, he was trying to get back in, pounding on the door. He was clearly very drunk. 

“Let me in! You can’t cut me off, I need… need drink. Jus’ one more. Jus’...” he trailed off, stumbling back and practically falling over Danny. 

Danny, who had nearly passed out again on his feet, blinked back to alertness as the man turned to face him. A flash of recognition flashed over both their faces and they both spoke at once.

“Ward?” 

“You’re dead.” 

“Feel like it,” Danny muttered, but he wasn’t sure if Ward heard him. The other man was swaying on his feet, staring at Danny. Vaguely, Danny knew they had to get back to the motel, but again, he didn’t have the strength to move. 

Then Ward turned and started walking off, and despite himself, Danny managed to move after him. 

“Where’re you going?” he asked, forcing himself to keep moving. He stumbled forward, practically falling onto Ward, grabbing at his shirt for support. His legs felt like jelly and his right knee hurt almost as much as it had when Davos broke it. 

“I’need a drink,” Ward muttered. Danny tightened his grip on Ward’s shirt. 

“No,” he said, trying to sound as firm as he could. “Need sleep.” 

Ward stopped, to Danny’s relief, and shrugged. Danny leaned on him, unable to support his own weight for the moment. Ward glanced at him, something flickering through his face. Danny was too tired to try to read it. 

With a sinking heart, he realised Ward was in no state to go anywhere. Gritting his teeth, Danny somehow found the strength to move again, Ward practically dead weight on his shoulder. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how, but eventually, they arrived back at the motel, Ward muttering in Danny’s ear as they stumbled towards their room. Danny practically dropped Ward onto his bed as he entered, swaying, shaking and fighting back nausea as Ward collapsed. 

He stood there for a long moment, leg throbbing, arm sending stabbing pain through his whole body. Then, as he slowly began to realise he could rest now, he collapsed onto the other bed, hardly bothering to make sure he wasn’t damaging his arm further before darkness swallowed him. 

___

Ward felt like crap. The sun was beaming through the open curtains, abusing his eyes and setting his head throbbing. He was lying on top of his bed, shoes still on, clothes covered in sweat and vomit. 

He tried to close his eyes and return to the peaceful blackness, but the sunlight refused to let him. What had happened last night? He hadn’t felt this way for a long time. 

The image of Danny tumbling over the cliff flashed through his mind and he remembered with a groan. That would explain the headache, the blurry memories of the night before. He had been very drunk. 

At the moment, being drunk seemed very appealing. But his foggy memories of the night before told him he would be lucky to find a bar that would let him in - he’d been to quite a few. He’d been thrown out of quite a few.

A noise from across the room made him wince. Then he frowned - it sounded like a small whimper. He opened his eyes, hissing against the light, and slowly pushed himself up, groaning as he did. 

Once he had gained enough sense to make out the room, Ward could see a small figure, curled on top of the other bed. It was Danny - and he didn’t look good. 

Ward forced himself to move, stumbling off the bed and towards Danny. He had a vague memory of Danny finding him last night and stumbling home with him, but he hadn’t been sure if that was real or not. Whatever the case - Danny was _alive_. 

For now. 

The younger man looked horrible. He was curled into a tight ball, shivering slightly, blood caking one side of his face. His clothes were torn, the tattoo on his chest clearly visible - clearly covered with a number of cuts, bruises and scrapes. His right arm was pressed close to his chest, red and swollen. 

Ward swore, collapsing back onto his bed. For a moment, he stared at Danny, unsure of what to do, his pounding head making it hard to focus. Then Danny shuddered, a small whimper escaping him. 

Spurred on by Danny’s danger, Ward moved to his side, touching his arm gently. He was worryingly cold, his shirt still slightly damp. Ward frowned, shifting Danny into a sitting position. He groaned, muttering something, but didn’t open his eyes. 

Ward managed to wrestle the unconscious man into a dry shirt, collapsing onto the bed beside him once he had accomplished his task. Danny curled into him, not any closer to waking up. 

The sunlight was hurting his eyes, and his head was pounding, and Ward wanted nothing more than to cover himself with his blankets and sleep for the next week. Danny’s cool body pressed into his side was the only thing keeping him from doing that. He looked down at Danny, at his hair sticking to the side of his bloody face. He looked anything but peaceful, twitching and whimpering every now and then. 

A cough tore itself out of Danny’s chest, rocking his whole body. Ward jumped, the sudden sound spending a spike of pain through his head. But it was enough to get him thinking - Danny needed help, help that Ward couldn’t give at the moment. 

He carefully managed to pry himself away from Danny, covering him with a blanket in the hopes to keep him warm, and called the hospital. 

The next few hours were a blur. Somehow, they ended up at the hospital, Ward waiting anxiously for any news about Danny. He waited, trying to shake off his hangover, sitting helplessly in the waiting room of a hospital halfway across the world from home. 

When he was finally allowed to see Danny (“sprained wrist, looks like he agitated an old leg wound. Wouldn’t be surprised if he developed pneumonia,” the doctor said in surprisingly good English) it was another three days of waiting. 

Three days of thinking. He was constantly reliving that moment as Danny tumbled over the cliff. Danny, as he had lunged to help Ward, leaving himself open. Danny, dragging him home despite being half dead. 

Ward, letting him down once again. 

Three days later, while he was sitting beside Danny’s bed, hands wrapped around a mug of something he wished was stronger than coffee, Danny finally opened his eyes. 

Ward glanced over at him as he groaned, blinking his eyes open and taking in his surroundings. 

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” he muttered. Danny blinked, eyes fixing on him and that irritating grin flashing across his face. Ward wasn’t going to admit how relieved he was to see that smile.

“Hey Ward,” Danny said. He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. Ward watched him. 

“You alright?” he asked. Danny nodded, then cut himself off with a fit of coughing. “Woah, easy,” Ward said, hurriedly placing his drink down on the low table and helping Danny to sit up. He took a moment to cough violently, collapsing back onto his pillows as the fit ended. He looked very small, and Ward felt a stab of guilt looking at him. This was his fault. 

“I’m fine,” Danny said, his voice soft. There was a moment of silence, Ward trying to form his thoughts into words. Then Danny glanced up at him. “You okay?” 

Ward blinked. 

“I’m fin - Danny, you’re the one who nearly… you’re the one who spent the last three days comatose. _I’m _fine.” 

He shifted, reaching out to retrieve his coffee mug, wrapping his hands around it to keep them from shaking. He wanted a drink. 

Danny frowned, pushing himself up with his good arm. 

“You were drunk Ward,” he said matter of factly. Ward cursed quietly, focusing on the liquid inside his mug so he didn’t have to meet Danny’s eyes. “Ward…” Danny began again, but Ward still didn’t lookup. “It’s alrigh-” 

“No, it’s not,” Ward said, finally looking up. “It’s not alright. I messed up. You needed my help and I wasn’t there for you.” He took a deep breath, adjusting his grip on the mug. His hands were shaking despite the mug as he waited for the look of disappointment that would surely cross Danny’s face soon. The look of disgust that had so often graced Harold’s face. It would only be a matter of time until Danny shared that expression. 

Danny was quiet, watching him, clearly waiting for him to finish, so Ward took a deep breath. 

“I’m going back to America,” he said quietly. Danny started, alert. 

“Is everything okay? Is it Joy? Bethany, is the baby-” 

Ward held up a hand to stop the rush of questions. 

“It’s fine, everything's fine.” He let out a long breath, taking a sip of his coffee. If he tried hard enough he could almost pretend it was alcohol. “You need someone better than me on this trip, someone who doesn’t give up the moment things get hard.” _“Your fault. Your fault.” _

The voice in his head was starting to sound a lot like Harold. 

That didn’t mean it wasn’t right. 

He took another sip of his coffee to distract him from Danny’s face. 

_“Coward. Running away. You shouldn’t have come in the first place and now you’re leaving him. You’re a failure.” _

“Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t relapsed before now,” Danny said quietly. Ward snorted. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered. A flash of alarm crossed Danny’s face and he shook his head. 

“No, I didn’t mean… Look, I’m proud of you, Ward.” 

The words stopped Ward short. He looked up, staring at Danny. What on earth was there to be proud of in him? 

“You’ve stayed sober this long - there’ve been many times where I thought you might relapse in the past few months, but you haven’t.” 

“I did though. And you might have died.” _“Failure. You should have been better.”_

“I didn’t though,” Danny said, that infuriating grin on his face again. “Go back if you want, but please don’t go back if you don’t want to. I’d miss you.” 

_“Of course he’d say that. This is Danny - he’ll forgive anyone if they give him the chance - even if they don’t give him the chance. He won’t get rid of toxic people - you have to remove yourself. Leave, get out of his life, let him live. You don’t deserve him.” _

“You deserve to have a better travelling companion, someone who doesn't get annoyed at every little thing you do,” Ward said. “Someone who doesn’t get drunk when you’re in trouble. Someone who doesn’t distract you and nearly get you killed.” 

“Maybe, but I invited _you_.” 

Ward snorted, shaking his head. _“He felt sorry for you. Felt obligated to invite you because he’s nice like that. Get out of his life before you ruined it more.” _

“Ward, please.” Danny’s voice was quiet, begging Ward to listen. He looked up, taking in the younger man’s earnest face. “I invited you, and I would much rather die protecting you than any other way. You’re my brother and I… I love you.” 

Ward was silent for a long time, the words hanging in the air. He looked down again, not sure if he deserved such love. But Danny sounded sincere, sounded like he really meant it. 

(No one had told them they loved him for years. Not Joy - not recently at least - and certainly not Harold. Who else was there? He had vague memories of his mother saying it, but no one else.) 

“I’d rather you not die at all,” he muttered dryly. Danny grinned again, then broke into another burst of coughing. Ward shifted forward, watching closely in case he could help. Once the coughs died, Danny sighed, slumping back into the pillows.

“Please don’t go back,” he said softly. Ward looked at him - at his thin body, covered in cuts and bruises. At the bandage on his forehead, the sling his arm hung in. He looked so small and pitiful, and Ward’s protective instincts told him he couldn't leave. 

_“Protective Ward, really? You’re the reason he’s in this mess in the first place. You couldn’t protect Joy. What makes you think you can protect him? Pitiful - go home with your tail between your legs like the dog you are.” _

“I can’t be the reason you get hurt again,” Ward said. Danny shrugged. 

“You’ve saved my life enough times, I think we’re even.” He paused, then added, “Besides, you’ve also been hurt because of me.” 

Ward was silent, then let out a long breath, placing his coffee mug back on the table. 

“Alright, fine. I’ll stay. But don’t do anything reckless on my account again, alright?” 

Danny grinned. 

“No promises,” he said. 

Ward scowled slightly, wanting to say that wasn’t good enough. Danny couldn’t keep throwing himself in danger, couldn’t keep risking his life. 

But then, slowly, something dawned on him. Danny was willing to give his life for Ward as much as Ward was willing to die for Danny. The thought stopped all others in their tracks. 

No one had ever cared for Ward that much before. Joy might have said she did, but her betrayal had shown how she really felt. He stared at Danny as he fought back another fit of coughing. Danny was willing to die for him. 

He was silent, considering that thought as he watched Danny closely. The other man soon fell asleep again, regaining his strength, but Ward continued to watch, his coffee growing cold beside him. 

Danny cared for him, despite how often he had messed up. Despite the fact that he was going to mess up again in the future. Danny cared about him. 

Ward wasn’t quite sure if he knew what to do with that information. 


End file.
